Meredith
by castiello
Summary: Jane makes a sacrifice, and Red John's girlfriend makes a very gruesome discovery. Dark future-fic. Spoilers for the Season Four Finale.
1. Chapter 1

**Meredith**  
by castiello

(A/N: Written for the Paint It Red June 2012 Challenge. Prompt: "The three words that could change your life forever.")

**Chapter One**

"_Take me, instead."_

Jane's voice drifted through the dark fog, somewhere off to her left.

Red John started to laugh, and Lisbon struggled to open her eyes. The pounding in her head was unbearable, made fifteen times worse by the glare of the warehouse lights, but she needed to see where her gun was…

"Isn't that what you want?" Jane went on. "To be with me? To 'teach' me things?"

Footsteps clanged across the metal scaffolding, and Lisbon quickly closed her eyes again. She felt the cold, razor edge of a knife press hard against her throat.

"I can teach you things right here," Red John said, gripping a fistful of Lisbon's blood-matted hair and pressing the blade even deeper.

Jane scoffed. "Teach me what? That you can break me? That you can take away what I care about? You've already shown that…and you can again, if necessary – you can always come back for her, anytime you want."

Red John chuckled, his vibrations moving through the knife. "I can always come back for _you_."

"No," Jane said firmly, and Lisbon dared slit her eyes open again. She spied her gun, teetering at the edge of the scaffolding. Fingers creeping along by the millimeter, she started to reach for it…

"No?"

"No," Jane repeated. "Not willingly. You can come back for her, but this is the one and only time you will ever _truly_ have me. I'll come with you voluntarily, listen to your teachings, go along with whatever you plan…"

Lisbon's fingers were close…so, _so _close…

"…But only if you let her go right now."

Red John shifted the knife playfully, contemplating Jane's suggestion.

_Keep him talking, Jane…Just keep him talking ONE more second…_

"Deal," Red John said suddenly. And in a rush of cool air, the knife's pressure vanished from her throat. Lisbon's hand, which had just managed to brush the tip of the gun barrel, was abruptly crushed under the weight of the serial killer's steel-toed boot.

With his finger curved like a hook, Red John scooped up the gun and flung it off the scaffolding. Lisbon heard the weapon clink against cement, three stories below, and then Red John bent low, his hot breath tickling her ear.

"Rain-check," he whispered.

And the world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

TWO YEARS LATER…

Most of the guys Meredith dated were scum.

There was Bobby, who liked to get piss-drunk, accuse her of checking out other guys, and then apologize to her the next morning when she was holding an ice-pack on her black eye.

There was Keith, the sweet-talker who swiped Meredith's ATM card whenever he needed to feed his crack habit.

And then there was Simon, the brain-dead stoner whose greatest life accomplishment was peeing a perfect smiley face in the Montana snow.

Losers, all of them. Degenerate, good-for-nothing lowlifes. They were just the kind of guys Meredith seemed to attract – always had been.

Until now.

This time, it was different. _Jay_ was different. Looks-wise, he wasn't much of a catch – hair going grey and receding at the same time. Soft, delicate features that sometimes made him look like a girl. Or a Hobbit. Teeth just a little too crooked, like his mom couldn't afford braces for him when he was a kid.

But there was something about him. His eyes were bright and sharp, like little knives, prickling against Meredith's skin whenever he looked at her. And the way he said her name, the way it slid across his tongue – Me_red_ith – made her sound beautiful and powerful and exotic all at once. Like she was some Nigerian princess or something. No, not a princess. A _queen_.

And he treated her like one, too – buying her _real_ florist roses, instead of the wilty drugstore kind. Coming to pick her up, when her craptastic car broke down on the side of the road. Hell, he even loaned Meredith the cash to pay the mechanic. Five hundred and seventy-two bucks, and Jay didn't even bat an eye. Just handed over the money. And he wasn't bugging her to pay him back, either – which, given the weak-ass tips she was getting at the diner these days, wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

So, forget all that knight-in-shining-armor shit – as far as Meredith was concerned, her new boyfriend was a friggin' _saint_.

Of course, Meredith's roommate, Dana, had a slightly different opinion:

"The way he looks at you…it's fucking creepy," Dana said one night, when they were sipping Buds on the couch. "Like he wants to bite right into you…"

But then, Dana was dating Simon right now, so what the hell did she know?

_Not much_, Meredith decided, as she finished zipping up the slinky new red dress Jay had bought her. It fit perfect, sleek scarlet painted to her every curve. And the color really made the highlights in her long auburn hair pop.

"Wear this tonight," he'd said, when he gave Meredith the package on her smoke break. "We're going someplace special."

He wouldn't tell her where; Jay was mysterious like that.

Knowing him, though, it was probably some fancy restaurant, like _Andiamo_. Either that, or a concert. He _did_ like his music – especially that classical stuff. Meredith's heart did a little leap-frog flip at the thought. She'd never been to the Symphony before…

Outside, Dana's ugly bulldog started to bark himself hoarse, and Meredith quickly slipped on her shoes. Jay was always on time. Always.

Meredith clicked her way into the living room, where Simon was zoned out on the couch, staring at the wall like it was alive and moving. In his stoned brain, it probably _was_.

She picked up her purse and tried to get his attention. "Simon?"

He continued to sit there, unblinking, his lazy blond hair hanging in please-cut-me-soon curls around his face.

Meredith tried again: "I'm going out, now, okay?"

More wall-gazing.

Meredith sighed and scribbled a note for Dana:

_Out with Jay – probably be late._

_M_

She had her hand on the doorknob when Simon's dreamy voice drifted up from the couch:

"Bye, Merry…"

Meredith smiled in spite of herself.

"Bye, Dope," she said, as a single sharp knock cracked against the door.

Meredith pulled it open to reveal Jay, standing there in one of his usual crisp black suits. She'd joked to him last week that he always looked like he was going to a funeral. Jay just smiled.

He was smiling now, as his sharp eyes traveled her up and down.

"Do I look okay?" Meredith asked, squirming under his scrutiny. He _had_ paid for the dress, after all…

Jay's smile deepened. He met her eyes. "Red hot."

At the sound of Jay's silk-soft voice, Simon raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, craning to see out the door.

Jay took a step back. "You ready?" he asked Meredith.

She nodded and followed him out the door, teetering on her too-high heels. Jay took hold of her arm, and the bulldog, already barking non-stop, went ballistic – snarling and foaming and lunging against his chain. He looked practically rabid.

"Hush up, Gremlin!" Meredith shouted at him. "What's got into you?"

The dog's cries escalated to piercing yelps as Jay opened the car door for her. Meredith rolled her eyes. Dana had probably forgotten to feed him this morning. That was it.

Meredith cracked her window and called out, "She'll feed you when she gets home!" Then she quickly closed the window again, not wanting to hear Gremlin's mournful howls as she and Jay pulled away from the house.

"You know," Jay said softly, "animals have excellent intuition. People do, too, but we've buried it under intellect. If we could listen to our deepest instincts the way our pets do, we'd all be much better off."

"Yeah, well, if Dana would remember to feed her dog, my eardrums would be better off," Meredith grumbled.

Jay smiled, and Meredith settled back into the plush leather seat, watching the road stretch out in front of them.

"So, where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see," he said, still in that soft, soothing tone.

Jay never seemed to raise his voice. Never seemed to need to. Just a few whispered words in that silky voice were enough to make those obnoxious teens at the movies shut up real quick – and to make one harried busboy very, _very _sorry for accidentally bumping Jay's chair.

Meredith had no idea what Jay said to any of them, but the sight of the pale, pee-scared teens made her grin. She did feel sorry for the busboy, though.

She wondered if there would be any busboys where Jay was taking her tonight...

"Are we going out to eat?" Meredith asked.

"Not exactly," Jay told her.

"Will there be music?"

"Perhaps."

"Dancing?" she pressed.

Jay just smiled. It drove her right up the wall and down the other side.

"Aw, come on," Meredith pouted. "Don't be like that. At least give me a hint. Just one little hint. _Puh-lease_?" She laid the last word on caramel-thick – Jay always liked it when she begged.

"All right," he said finally. "We're going on a retreat. A weekend getaway – just you, me, and a roaring fire. I wanted it to be a surprise, but _someone _couldn't handle it."

Jay gave her a playful, sideways glance, but Meredith sat forward, frowning. A whole weekend? Not that it didn't sound tempting as hell, but she was supposed to work a shift tomorrow night. Carl would rip her a new one if she tried to get out of it…

Meredith reluctantly opened her mouth to tell Jay.

"I already cleared it with your boss," Jay said smoothly, before she could get the words out.

Meredith stared at him. "Seriously? What'd you bribe him with?"

"I just reminded him that you're a hard worker, and told him you'll be able to work even harder when you come back on Monday, rested and refreshed."

"And he bought that?" Meredith huffed a laugh and relaxed back into her seat. "Well, whatever works…"

"It wasn't a lie – you _will _be well-rested, come Monday. My cabin is very restful."

Meredith felt her smile slip a notch. Cabin? As in woods? As in mosquitoes, wild animals and possibly no electricity? Wasn't a retreat supposed to be like going to a fancy spa? Something with private massages and room service?

"Don't worry," Jay said. "It has full amenities – including a Jacuzzi."

Sometimes, it was like he could read her mind.

"And I'll give you all the backrubs you want," Jay added.

Meredith grinned, snuggling deeper into the warm black leather.

Best. Boyfriend. _Ever_.

XxX

It took about three hours to get up to Jay's cabin – which, as far as Meredith could tell, was located at least ten miles past the end of known civilization. She'd never gone so far without seeing a Burger King in her entire life.

For the last twenty minutes of the trip, they weren't even on a real road – just a couple of tire tracks, covered in dead red pine needles, winding through the trees. Thick, prickly branches slapped against the windshield and squeaked across the windows like some weird, living carwash as Jay's Grand Cherokee crested the final hill.

They parked just over the top, and Meredith climbed out on stiff legs, dubiously eyeing the cabin that loomed in front of her. It didn't look anything like a spa – more like something made from Lincoln Logs. She could just imagine the kinds of deer heads and animal skins that were probably hanging on the walls inside. Out here, the air smelled like Pine-Sol, and all Meredith could hear were crickets – plus the whining buzz of a mosquito, hovering persistently around her face.

She crossed her arms.

"It's much nicer on the inside," Jay said, coming up beside her. "I promise."

As he led her up to the front porch, some kind of motion-sensor light came on, practically scorching Meredith's retinas. Well, at least the place had electricity…

Jay opened the door and flicked on the lights, gesturing for Meredith to go in first.

"Why don't you go check things out," he suggested, "while I fix us some dinner?"

_As long as I don't run into Bambi's mom_, Meredith thought, stepping cautiously over the threshold.

As it turned out, the place wasn't so bad – there were no bear rugs or decapitated deer in sight, and the wine rack in the kitchen was full of names Meredith couldn't even pronounce, much less afford. The living room had a nice big fireplace, which crackled cozily once Jay got it started, and, right past the room labeled "LIBRARY," Meredith found a bedroom where the mattress was king-sized, and the sheets were made of red silk.

She tested out the bed, bouncing on her butt. _Nice_.

A large painting of a white tiger hung on the opposite wall. The beast stared at her through long brush-strokes of grass, piercing her with his burning, predator eyes.

Kinda cool, but kinda creepy.

Meredith climbed off the bed and went to peek inside the master bathroom. Gleaming gold faucets. Sparkling black and white tile. Big friggin' Jacuzzi.

She grinned. From downstairs, she could hear Jay's soft voice, calling her to dinner.

XxX

They had steaks – his rare, hers well-done. She'd read that warning sign at the diner enough times not to want to mess with pink meat. E. Coli? No, thank you.

Jay didn't seem to mind the risk. She watched him cut his meat into perfect cubes, the side of his knife flashing like a mirror as he worked. Then, gaze intent, he speared each square with OCD precision, and popped them, one by one, into his mouth.

On the last bite, Jay looked up at her and smiled, his eyes flashing red in the firelight, the meat a bulge in his cheek. And suddenly, Dana's words echoed in Meredith's mind:

_Like he wants to bite right into you…_

Meredith shuddered. Jay finished swallowing and reached for the bottle in the middle of the table.

"More wine?" he asked.

She cleared her throat and tried to smile. "Sure."

After a few sips, Meredith felt herself relax. Stupid Dana. Trust her to screw up the most romantic weekend of Meredith's life…

"Ready for dessert?" Jay asked, starting to clear away the dishes.

Meredith chewed her lip. Her slinky new dress already felt a little stretched around the middle. "I don't know…Does it have chocolate in it?"

"Inside and out."

She smiled for real. "Then, bring it on."

At the sight of the cake Jay carried in from the kitchen, she knew she'd made the right call: thickly-slathered in what looked like homemade chocolate frosting, the smell alone sent her drool glands into overdrive.

Dark red juices oozed from the cake as Jay sliced into it, and a raspberry smell joined the warm, chocolaty one. Meredith unapologetically devoured two whole pieces, moaning as she sucked the last bit of frosting from her fork. Jay watched, smiling.

"That was fucking _heaven_," she told him. "How come you didn't have any?"

"Oh, I had something different in mind for dessert…" Jay smiled wider, his eyes darkening with lust.

Meredith's heart skipped a beat. Her skin prickled all over.

Jay stood up and circled around the table, coming to kneel in front of her. Firelight and shadow played across his face as he slowly took her right hand and pressed his lips to it, the way Prince Charming did in the movies. His eyes burned right into her.

"Can I have my dessert now, Me_red_ith?"

She nodded, mesmerized.

Jay stood up, pulling her with him. He captured her mouth in a kiss, his lips hot and eager against hers, diving deeper, deeper, until she felt like she was drowning. Meredith pulled back, panting and flushed. Jay attacked the side of her neck, next – one of her sweet spots and he knew it – making her moan like the chocolate raspberry cake all over again.

Meredith leaned back against the table, not caring that the edge was digging into her spine. Jay moved to her earlobe, sucking and nibbling, and she closed her eyes. The floor was rolling underneath her, the room was spinning, she was high on the scent of him – metal and smoke and Old Spice Red Zone…

"Jay…"

He abandoned her ear and took a step back, breathing hard. Meredith swayed, dazed. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Upstairs," he said, leading her by the hand. Meredith stumbled after him, past the point of resistance.

In the bedroom, he pinned her against the wall, his kisses rougher, fiercer, his fingers like claws, digging into her shoulders. Buttons rained onto the floor as she ripped his shirt open. Together, she and Jay staggered toward the bed, Meredith struggling with the zipper on her dress.

"I think…it's stuck," she panted, flopping down on the mattress.

Jay stood over her, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll cut it off if I have to."

And with a smile, he climbed on top of her, while the white tiger watched from across the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Meredith woke up tangled in red silk. It was still dark, and the clock on the bedside table glowed 3:06. Jay was snoring softly beside her. Moonbeams slanted through the open blinds, revealing her dress, dangling precariously from the ceiling fan. She smiled.

Good times.

Moving carefully, Meredith slid out from under the covers and padded across the room, pausing at the bathroom door. She really had to pee, but she was also itching all over for a smoke…

_Cigarette first_, she decided, heading for the hallway. Meredith didn't know where Jay had put her purse, but it was probably downstairs somewhere. She didn't want to wake him, if she didn't have to, but –

Meredith suddenly froze, heart pounding. She could've sworn she just heard a noise coming from _inside_ the wall.

Holding her breath, she strained to listen. All she could hear was Jay, snoring away on the bed. Meredith took a step closer to the wall, and heard the sound again – short and high-pitched, almost like a squeak.

_Mouse_, she thought, exhaling shakily.

She glanced over her shoulder at Jay's sleeping form, but didn't try to wake him. A mouse, she could handle on her own. Hell, even a rat she could handle. But if the thing turned out to be a friggin' possum or something…well, then Jay was about to get the loudest, rudest awakening of his life.

On tiptoe, Meredith crept over to retrieve her dress and silently slipped it on. Just because she could handle a rodent, didn't mean she wanted to do it _naked_.

Feeling slightly less exposed, she returned to the wall, walking slowly along the length of it, until –

_Squeak_.

It came from behind the tiger painting. Ignoring the creepy stare of those silver-blue eyes, Meredith took a deep breath and lifted the painting down. There was a fist-sized hole in the wall behind it. She snatched one of her shoes off the floor, getting ready to pound whatever came scurrying out.

But the hole remained dark and silent, no hint of any furry, beady-eyed things shifting around in the depths. After a minute, she lowered the shoe, and it came again:

_Squeak!_

No, Meredith realized. Not a "squeak." More like a "whir." A _mechanical_ whir.

Frowning, she reached toward the hole. Her fingers hesitated briefly, right in front of the opening, her mind flashing with spider legs and rat tails and sharp possum teeth. Then, with a shake of her head, Meredith screwed up her face and bravely reached into the unknown.

_Don't be a possum, don't be a possum, don't be –_

It wasn't a possum. Her hand closed on something small and cold. Meredith pulled the object out and stared down at it. A tiny camera lens, about the size of a quarter, stared right back at her. As she watched, the little lens rotated right, then left, whirring softly as it tried to bring her into focus. A thin black cord stretched from the back of the miniature camera, disappearing into the wall.

Meredith's mind felt paralyzed, unable to process.

Why the hell was there a camera in Jay's wall?

It made no sense, and she actually turned toward the bed, was actually opening her mouth to _ask_ him about it, when understanding finally smacked her in the face:

The wall. The bed. The wall _facing _the bed.

A hidden camera pointed right at the bed.

Meredith's lips peeled back from her teeth in a snarl. She dropped the camera, letting it dangle from its wall-hole like some drunken dog-tongue, and tightened her grip on the shoe. Rage pounding in her temples, she advanced on her clueless, sleeping boyfriend – make that _ex-_boyfriend – having half a mind to _beat_ him awake with a four-inch stiletto.

_Oh, you perv_, she thought, standing over him. _You sick, deranged bastard._

Jay gave a soft sigh and snuggled deeper under the covers, utterly oblivious. At this moment, with his hair all mussed up and his face so peaceful, he looked like a friggin' four-year-old. Meredith felt her grip on the high-heel loosen, the intent to kill fading, even though the desire still crackled hot inside of her.

The one time she actually thought she was seeing a decent guy. The _one _flipping time, and it turned out he liked to make secret sex tapes. It was just her luck – once a freak-magnet, always a freak-magnet.

God only knew what he did with the recordings, too – Meredith didn't even want to think about it right now. She was just glad that before tonight, they'd always hooked up at _her_ place.

Jay sighed again and rolled over, his foot flopping out from underneath the sheet.

Meredith narrowed her eyes, still entertaining the idea of braining him. No, death was too easy – dead people couldn't suffer anymore, and Jay most _definitely _deserved to suffer. An image came of his brand-new Jeep, parked outside. That ultra-shiny, cherry red paint job, just _asking _to get keyed. Those luscious leather seats, just _waiting_ for her to spill their fluffy guts. Meredith smiled. See how _he_ liked feeling violated…

Or, better yet, she could _take_ the Jeep, leave Jay's sorry ass stranded in the middle of the woods, and _then_ "redecorate" the car, once she was safely back in Walmart territory.

But, first things first – she wasn't going _anywhere_ without that video…

Meredith walked back to the wall and started feeling around inside the hole. The tiny camera looked a lot like Dana's webcam, so it had to be attached to something bigger, right? Like a computer or an iPad? Meredith frowned, feeling the cord disappear further into the woodwork.

She picked up the camera again, turning it over in the moonlight. The stupid thing didn't even have any buttons on it. People couldn't save movies on a camera like this…could they?

Suddenly, she wished Simon were here. On the one day a week he managed not to get high, he was actually pretty decent with all this technology crap.

_Guess my boyfriend ain't lookin' so bad now, is he? _Dana's bitchy voice taunted.

Meredith told her to shut up, and gave the whirring, button-less camera a vicious tug. Out in the hallway, she heard something rip. Peering out, Meredith spotted a long loop of black cord, hanging like a jungle vine from the wall above the doorframe. A jagged tear in the blue-striped wallpaper showed where the cord had ripped through. And, now that she was looking, she could see the raised line underneath the paper, where the cord stretched on down the hall.

Meredith withdrew into the bedroom, chewing her lip. A quick glance told her Jay was still sprawled on the bed, dead to the universe. She hurriedly stuffed the whirring camera back into its hole and picked up the painting. Moonlight streamed through the tiger's missing pupil as she lifted the picture back onto the wall. Meredith hadn't noticed it before.

The perfect, creepy peephole.

She shuddered and stepped back, surveying the room. Everything looked normal. Jay wouldn't be able to tell right away that she'd found the camera. The longer it was before he discovered that his girlfriend – and car – were missing, the better.

Tucking her shoes in her armpit, Meredith stepped out into the hall, remembering to stick the loose stretch of cord back above the doorframe, so he wouldn't notice it hanging down. Then, by the soft glow of the nightlight at the end of the hall, she began to follow the trail:

Meredith's fingers traced the thin line of the cord, hidden under the wallpaper. The wire's camouflaged path went all the way to the end of the hall, down the steps, and into the living room, always expertly concealed by well-placed geometric patterns in the wallpaper. Even in broad daylight, it would be hard to spot that tiny lump. Jay wasn't just a perv – he was like, a _genius _perv.

The cord led Meredith through the dining room, through the kitchen, and up to a locked door she thought might lead to the basement. Only one way to find out, though –

Meredith swiped Jay's keys from a hook near the front entrance, and started testing them out in the lock. On the second try, the bolt shifted with a heavy clack, and the door swung open to reveal a staircase leading down into darkness. Meredith found the light switch and flicked it on.

Bare bulbs blazed to life along the stone walls. She could see that the stairs went deep, hitting a landing about twelve steps down, and then disappearing off to the right. Swallowing dryly, Meredith started to walk down them.

The stone steps felt like popsicles against her bare toes. At the first landing, she stopped to pull on her shoes. After that, her footsteps echoed eerily off the walls: click, click, click…

At the bottom of the second flight was another locked door, this one painted bright red. The camera cord, no longer covered by wallpaper or paint, snaked underneath it and into the room beyond. Meredith shivered. The air had to be ten degrees colder down here than it was upstairs. The place looked like a dungeon, and she was having second thoughts about this whole thing. Maybe she should just cut her losses and get the hell out of Dodge…

Meredith weighed this option against how pissed off she would be if her bare ass ended up on some porno site. Or worse – YouTube.

She decided it couldn't hurt to look – if the video seemed easy to steal or erase, she would do it. If not, she could always just take off. Meredith took a deep breath and started trying keys again.

This time, she didn't hit pay dirt until number seven. And then, even with the lock open, she still had trouble opening the door – it weighed a friggin' _ton_. With a grunt and a shove, Meredith shouldered it inward.

_Damn thing's probably made of steel, or else—_

But whatever thought was coming next died on the tip of her brain. Many thoughts died, actually, and the ones that didn't piled up on top of each other, creating a log-jam inside of her mind, and for a moment Meredith forgot how to do everything except stare.

In the room beyond, the lights were already on. The space was neatly divided – one large open area, three enormous, gleaming cages. Like super-sized dog kennels, the square pens stood at least ten feet tall, each big enough to hold a tiger.

The woman in the middle cage was curled up in a corner next to a pitiful cot, her arms wrapped around her bare, dirty knees. Matted blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in thick clumps. At the sound of the door, the woman looked up in fright, her eyes wild and frantic.

The man, on the other hand, didn't look scared at all. He stood right by the front of his cell, right up by the tight-woven bars, and gazed at Meredith with calm blue eyes, like he'd been waiting for her to come all along. Behind him, Meredith could see a fancy Oriental rug spread on the floor, a small, worn-out couch, and a table-top cluttered with books and teacups.

On the far left, the last cage stood empty, its barred door hanging open like a forgotten gate. A thin blue blanket was puddled on the floor, next to an overturned cereal bowl and a few plastic cups.

Meredith's heart pounded. She couldn't turn her eyes off. Jay was a kidnapper. A ninth-level nut-job. A psycho…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Like a ship on rough waters, the floor beneath Meredith's feet began to tilt, and spots started to fall in front of her eyes. Little black snowflakes, floating down...

Her boyfriend kept people in _cages_…

Meredith swayed. The man in the right-hand cell waved his hand to get her attention, and then inhaled deeply, making a gesture for her to do the same. Meredith realized that she'd been holding her breath, and took a great, loud gasp of air. In a head-spinning rush, the floor stopped tilting, and the black spots began to fade. The man smiled and nodded encouragingly.

As soon as she was no longer on the verge of passing out, he beckoned her closer. Meredith obeyed slowly, walking over to him on wobbly, teetering legs. He pointed to a switch on the wall beside her. Meredith reached out to press it, but jerked her hand back at the last second.

The log-jam in her brain was starting to clear, and she narrowed her eyes at the man, suddenly wary. He was _way _too calm for a hostage. Meredith had no clue who this guy was, or what the hell was going on, and she sure as shit wasn't pressing any buttons or flipping any switches without more information.

"What does it do?" she asked.

The man mouthed a few words, then pointed at something higher up on the wall. A speaker. Meredith looked back at him, and realized for the first time that bars were not the only things keeping him in – the cage was lined with some kind of very thin, very clear Plexiglas. He pointed at the speaker again, mouthing something, and Meredith understood.

She flipped the switch, and the man's voice came though the speaker:

"Hello, Meredith," he said. "My name is Patrick Jane. I need your help, and I'm afraid we don't have much time."

Meredith swallowed past the pounding in her throat. "Did Jay…Did he kidnap you?"

The man raised his blond eyebrows, looking a little bit like an older version of Simon. "Me? No." He tipped his head toward the woman in the next cage, who was still on the floor, watching them with hollow, sunken eyes. "Her, yes."

The pounding got harder. "Why – why would he – ?"

"Your boyfriend is a serial killer," the man said steadily, looking right into Meredith's eyes. "The newspapers call him Red John. So far, he's killed thirty-seven people, and if you don't act quickly and do as I say, you'll be number thirty-eight."

She was starting to feel dizzy again. "W-what should I do? We're in the middle of nowhere…I don't – "

"Do you have a cell phone with you?"

Meredith shook her head. "It's in my purse – I don't know where Jay put it. I could go look…"

"No, nevermind that," the man said. "He probably already destroyed it. Did you see a landline phone anywhere, when you were walking around the cabin?"

"Um, I don't know…I don't _think_ so. I can't – "

"Close your eyes. Imagine the moment you walked into each room, and stop right in the doorway, letting your eyes slide over everything – the furniture, the carpeting, the walls…Do you see any phones?"

Meredith remembered wandering through the cabin earlier, afraid of stumbling onto mounted deer heads and Grizzly bear rugs. Instead, she had found a nice fireplace in the living room, a loaded wine rack in the kitchen, a soft bed with red silk sheets, a Jacuzzi, all the comforts of a fancy-ass six-figure home, except…

"No. No phones. No computers, either. But there was one room I didn't go in…" Meredith walked past it in her mind, trying to steal a glimpse through the half-open door, her right hand gripping the keys so hard they dug into her palm.

The _keys_.

Meredith's eyes flew open. "I have his keys," she blurted. "I can let you guys out, and then we can drive to the police together."

The man in the cell smiled sadly. "You'd need more than keys, to open these doors…" He nodded at the thick padlock on the cage door and Meredith lifted it, examining the underside. No keyhole – just a bunch of tiny buttons with numbers and letters on them. She couldn't open it without knowing the code.

"The car is your best bet," said the man. "Don't worry about the other room – you don't have time to search it. Just get to the car, and get as far as you can – the more populated, the better. Don't stop anywhere remote."

Meredith shook her head. "I can't – I mean, I can't just _leave_ you guys here…"

"Yes, you can." He looked at her steadily, those calm blue eyes never wavering.

"I-if I leave, is Jay going to…" She swallowed roughly. "Is he going to kill you?"

The man hesitated, looking over at the blonde woman. "Her, yes," he said. "Me, no. Not right away, at least. Eventually."

"Oh, God…"

"There'll be time for guilt later, Meredith. Right now you need to leave – and I want you to take something with you." He moved a few feet to the right, past the cage door, and Meredith shadowed him, wobbling on her too-high heels.

The man led her to a small, thin slot, about waist-high. On the inside of the cell, she could see a metal tray attached. On the outside, there was only a tiny, bolted hatch. She unlocked the little door and pulled it open, just as the man dropped something into the tray with a soft clink.

Meredith pulled the tray through the slot and looked at the object spinning there, shiny-bright as a brand-new subway token, rattling around in hula-hoop circles. She captured it in her hand and held it to the light. A ring. A _wedding_ ring.

"Give that to Agent Teresa Lisbon," the man instructed. "California Bureau of Investigation."

Meredith closed the ring in her fist. "Okay," she promised. "I will."

"Better get a move on, Meredith – he already knows you're gone."

Meredith's mouth went dry. "How do you know that?"

He tipped his chin at something behind her, and Meredith turned, half-expecting to see Jay standing right there, that eat-you-up smile buttered across his face.

Instead, she saw an expensive flat-screen TV, mounted high on the wall, its pixels glowing with the image of a moonlit bedroom. The very same moonlit bedroom she had walked out of a short while ago – with one exception. Jay was no longer sprawled on the bed, fast asleep. Now, he was sitting on the end of the mattress, swinging his legs like an impatient kindergartener.

Meredith's heart, which had never really had a chance to slow down from the last jolt, picked up its tempo even more.

"He woke just after you left," the man in the cage said. "Right now, he thinks you're just having a smoke, but soon, he'll realize you've been gone too long, and he'll come looking for you. Best not to be here when he does."

She nodded, turning back to him. The man was watching her with kind eyes. In this moment, he reminded her powerfully, painfully of Simon. Meredith opened her mouth to say something, but what was there to say, really? What words could possibly be of any use or comfort to two people she was about to leave behind to get butchered?

"It's okay," the man said gently. "Go on. Be safe."

Meredith started to back away, her heels clip-clopping like horse hooves on the stone floor.

"Better lose those shoes," the man advised. "At least until you get outside."

Meredith nodded and slipped them off, adding to her already full hands. She got to the door and looked back one last time. The man was standing where she'd left him, his hand raised in farewell. She noticed for the first time that he was missing his pinky finger.

Meredith's eyes strayed to the middle cage. The blonde woman had crawled all the way over to the cell door. Her nose and hands were pressed right to the Plexiglas, those haunted eyes like meat hooks, digging into Meredith's gut.

"I'm sorry," Meredith whispered.

Throat burning, she tore her eyes away and started up the staircase.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Meredith's bare feet were silent on the stone steps. Shaky breaths and the soft swish of her red dress were the only sounds she made. At the top, she killed the lights and stood in the kitchen doorway, statue-still, her whole brain focused on listening.

The dark cabin whispered to her – the low hum of the refrigerator, the soft drip-drip of a leaky faucet, the random crackles of a ten-year-old house, settling in on itself. But no creaking stairs or floorboards. No quiet breathing, other than her own. It was now or never…

Meredith rocked in place, steeling herself. Then, she bolted – like the mouse her drunken uncle had once chased through the apartment with a beer bottle, Meredith scampered across the kitchen floor, through the dining room, and into the living room, expecting Jay to jump out and grab her at every turn.

She made it through the front door untouched, and ran flat-out for the Jeep, biting her tongue to keep from screaming as pine needles bit into her feet. Halfway across the drive, the motion-sensor light blinked on, dousing her in a bright white spotlight which seemed to shriek like a banshee with a bullhorn:

"_Meredith's out here! Meredith's out here!"_

Without slowing down, Meredith crashed right into the driver's side door and began scrambling to find the key. Somewhere during the frantic search, Meredith's shoes fell from her hand, and she didn't bother to pick them back up. With a twist and a pull, the door was open, and Meredith clambered into the driver's seat on curled, aching feet. She closed the door, jammed the key into the ignition, and scanned the dark porch of the cabin in front of her.

No Jay.

Trembling like a junkie, Meredith turned the key. The engine came to life with a throaty tiger roar, and she wilted back into the seat, her body Jell-O all over with relief. The hard part was done – even if Jay came outside now, he wouldn't be able to stop her.

Meredith swung the Jeep in a tight, grinding circle and gunned it down the dark forest lane. Just over the hilltop, she heard a persistent dinging noise. Meredith clicked her seatbelt on and kept driving. The dinging didn't stop. She glanced at the glowing red dials behind the steering wheel, her eyes catching on the fuel gauge, where the needle rested flatly, heavily on top of the letter "E."

Her insides went cold.

_No_.

It wasn't possible – Jay had filled up at the last stop. She had _watched_ him do it. But the needle wouldn't lie, and even as she continued down the hill, bouncing from side to side on the uneven trail, Meredith could hear the engine start to whine.

"Don't you dare," she snarled at the straining machine. "Don't even _think_ about it."

Halfway up the second hill, the whining turned to coughing and sputtering.

Meredith pounded her fist against the steering wheel. "Come _on_!"

The Jeep made it to the top before dying entirely. She spent a few minutes twisting the key pointlessly, before shifting to neutral and letting gravity take her down the second slope. At the bottom, the car coasted for a while, slowly losing momentum until it finally went still, leaving her alone in the dark, with fifty-foot pines pressing in on all sides.

For a moment Meredith just sat there, breaths shuddering in and out of her, hot tears prickling at her eyes.

Then she launched back into action. Meredith slapped the dome-light on and started pawing through the glove compartment and under the seats, searching for something useful. Lots of people kept emergency kits in their cars – backup cell phones, flashlights, jumper cables...

Apparently, though, Jay just wasn't an emergency-preparedness type of guy. Either that, or he'd guessed she might try to take his car at some point, and had deliberately removed everything – including the gas – in order to fully screw her over.

Yeah, it was probably that.

Cursing her psycho boyfriend under her breath, Meredith abandoned the worthless Jeep and started jogging up the dark lane. She had a good head start on Jay. She'd left him without a vehicle, and even if he had the gas stashed somewhere, he'd still have to lug it two miles to get it to the Jeep.

In the meantime, if she kept moving and stayed on this road, it would eventually lead her to the paved road, and the paved road would lead her back to civilization. And maybe, just maybe, she would actually survive this crapfest of a night.

Of course, following the lane would be easier if her feet didn't feel like friggin' pincushions. Meredith distracted herself from the stabbing pains by going over everything she needed to tell the cops, word by word.

As she mentally replayed the night's horrors, Meredith ran a finger along the gold wedding band, which she was now wearing on her thumb for safe-keeping. She really wished she could remember the name of the guy who'd given it to her – she was sure he'd told her, but right after hearing "Your boyfriend is a serial killer," her brain had pretty much turned to rubber. It took a little while for things to start sticking again.

Meredith did, at least, remember the name of the person she was supposed to give the ring to. That was important. She could also give a good description of both of the people Jay was holding prisoner, and, with a little help from a map, a general location of his cabin. Hopefully, it would be enough.

When Meredith finished going through her story, all the way from finding Jay's hidden sex-camera to running through the woods in a skimpy-ass red dress, she rewound the tape and started at the beginning again, breaths huffing in and out of her in a steady rhythm.

_I was with my boyfriend at his cabin. At about three am, I woke up to pee, but I decided to have a smoke first. I was leaving the room when I heard –_

At that moment, an extra-sharp pine needle sank deep into the middle of her right foot. Meredith opened her mouth in a silent cry and tried to keep going, but the damn thing stayed with her, digging deeper on every step, until she finally had to stop.

Leaning against a tree, Meredith lifted her foot and pulled out the tiny torture device. In the faint moonlight, she could see a shiny bead of fresh blood join the already sticky, dirt-blackened mess that was the bottom of her right foot. Great. Wincing, she started to put the foot down again, but something made her stop dead –

In the distance, she could hear a low, steady humming noise. An engine…

For what felt like the tenth time tonight, Meredith's heart catapulted into her throat. Her first thought was: _Jay_. He'd come for his Jeep, and now he was coming for her. Meredith shrank into the woods, disappearing between dark, flaking trunks until she could see but not be seen, and then she waited for the Grand Cherokee to trundle past.

But when the headlights finally twinkled into view, sparkling like stars through the criss-crossing branches, Meredith could see that the vehicle was coming from the wrong direction. This was someone driving in from the paved road, not someone leaving the cabin. And, as the vehicle rumbled closer, Meredith saw something else – something that made a tingling warmth spread out from the center of her chest, as though she'd just knocked back a strong glass of brandy.

"Hey!" Meredith shouted, crashing against trees in her mad dash back to the road. "Hey! Hey!" She stumbled into the lane thirty feet ahead of the police cruiser, waving her arms like a maniac air traffic controller. "Stop! I need help!"

The cruiser's brakes screeched, its tires grinding on stones and pine needles. The car fishtailed, righted itself, and came to a shuddering halt five feet from where Meredith stood. Squinting in the glare of the headlights, she hobbled toward it.

The driver's side door swung open, washing the inside of the car with a yellow glow, and a male police officer in full uniform climbed out. Behind him, Meredith could see a large German Shepherd shifting anxiously on the back seat.

"What's the trouble, ma'am?" The officer asked kindly. "Did you have a break-down?" He looked past her, scanning the road for an abandoned vehicle.

Meredith shook her head. "No, it's not that – it's my boyfriend. He's some kind of serial killer – he's got people locked up in his cabin, and he's going to – "

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there – a _serial_ killer?"

Meredith nodded vigorously. "Yes! He's got people in cages in his basement. He's going to kill them, unless you – "

The officer held up a hand to stop her. "Okay, okay, just calm down – "

"_You _try being calm after _you_ escape a lunatic!" Meredith snapped. What was _with _this guy?

"All right, look," the cop said gently. "I'm not sure what you saw, or what exactly is going on here, but why don't you just take a seat in the car and try to relax, while I call for back-up? When they get here, I'll have them go check out your boyfriend's cabin, and I'll drive you back to the station to get your statement. Okay?"

He sounded like he was trying to reassure some mental patient who was scared of her own shadow.

"Fine," Meredith spat. "But you better make it quick – he could be offing those people right now." Flinging a dirty look at the inept cop, she stalked past him and went to climb in the passenger side.

In the back seat, the German Shepherd whined, pressing his wet nose against the smudged Plexiglas divider. Meanwhile, the cop stayed outside, swinging the driver's side door shut as he pulled out his cell phone. She could hear his voice, muted through the glass, as he started talking to dispatch:

"This is K9 Unit two-one-seven, requesting emergency backup. We have a possible hostage situation…"

Meredith slumped in her seat, letting the voice drone out. After a few minutes, the dome light went off, and she caught a glimpse of herself in the darkened window – auburn hair sticking out electrocution-style, dirt and sweat all over her face, eyes wide and wild. No wonder he was treating her like a crazy – she _looked_ like a crazy.

She made a half-assed attempt to tame her hair, then mentally said "screw it" and sat back. Let him go ahead and think she was insane – his cop buddies would find out the truth soon enough, once they checked out that cabin.

Meredith glanced through the window at the officer, still yapping on his phone. Apparently, calling for backup was an extensive process. With a weary sigh, she let her eyes roam the inside of the vehicle, dully taking in its cop-car bonuses: top-notch radio, fancy computer system, buttons that would make the lights on the roof scream and glitter like fireworks…Meredith fingered the one labeled "SIREN," half-tempted to push it, just to see the guy jump.

She pulled her hand back when the driver's side door suddenly opened. The cop climbed in beside her, tucking his cell phone away, and the dog in the back started to whine louder.

"Well, they're on the way," the cop told her. "Should be here in about ten minutes, give or take."

"Good," said Meredith.

They sat in silence for a moment, the car creaking as the officer shifted his weight. The German Shepherd whimpered, pawing the Plexiglas. Meredith fiddled with the ring on her thumb.

"You, uh, don't have a partner or anything?" she said finally, when the dog's crying started to get to her.

"Sure, I do," said the cop. "He's right there." The officer pointed his thumb at the Shepherd and smiled, but it wasn't exactly a nice smile. Meredith felt a flutter of uneasiness.

"So, ten minutes, right?" she asked.

"Give or take."

The dog's whimpers escalated to booming, full-scale barks.

The officer banged a fist on the divider – "Knock it off, Moses!" – and for a flash of an instant, Meredith saw Gremlin, going ballistic as Jay took her arm. Dana's bulldog had sensed something off about Jay. Gremlin had _tried_ to warn Meredith, but she just didn't listen. What was it Jay said, about animals having better instincts than people?

No, not better instincts – animals just paid attention to theirs. People didn't.

Meredith listened to the German Shepherd making frantic digging motions against the Plexiglas, and tried to figure out what he was _really_ saying. Why was he freaking out so bad? The dog had been calmer a few minutes ago, when the cop was still outside, talking on his phone, so why – ?

Meredith's eyes fell on the police radio, sitting silent in the middle of the dash. Then her gaze flicked onto the officer, who was now drumming a beat against the steering wheel with his thumbs. Why hadn't he called for backup on his radio? Wasn't that what cops were supposed to do – "radio" things in? Why use his cell phone? And why the hell was he just sitting there like some garage band wannabe, when he could be taking her statement?

Pretending to shift in her seat, Meredith slipped her fingers around the door handle. The cop didn't seem to notice – his eyes were fixed on the empty lane ahead, his thumbs still tapping that aimless beat. He looked like he was waiting for something, and Meredith was beginning to seriously doubt that it was backup.

Behind the Plexiglas, the Shepherd paced anxiously. Meredith's fingers tightened around the handle…

"Going somewhere?" the cop asked suddenly.

Meredith flinched. He was looking over at her now, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. On instinct, she yanked the handle and shoved the door open.

"Gotta pee," Meredith said quickly, practically falling on her face as she scrambled to get out. "I'll be right back." She slammed the door on the cop's questioning expression, and began to back away.

Not ten seconds after she made it into the trees, a new set of headlights appeared on the lane – coming from the direction of the cabin. Meredith started to run.

Within minutes, the sight of the cop's cruiser was blocked out by dark, overlapping branches. The sound of a car door slamming echoed through the woods. Another slam came, followed by the low murmur of male voices – the cop's baritone and Jay's gentle, silk-soft tenor. She heard a friendly, familiar greeting pass between them, like two old buddies, running into each other at a bar, and Meredith knew for sure then that the cop had never called for backup.

She hissed a curse and ran faster, stumbling over the uneven ground.

Behind her, a bright flashlight beam sliced through the trees, and the cop's voice sang out innocently, "Ma'am? Ma'am, are you lost?"

Meredith tripped and fell, cracking her knee on a sharp rock. Warm blood began to ooze down the front of her leg. She pushed herself up and kept going.

The cop muttered something, and Meredith could just make out Jay's smooth, easy reply:

"We'll take care of it later."

Her heart lurched at the closeness of his voice. They were gaining on her. Jay knew these woods. He had shoes and a flashlight and a partner – if she was going to have any chance at all, she needed to _haul ass_.

Broken branches lashed her face and arms as she launched herself forward at an almost suicidal pace. Pine sap stuck to her fingers and the skin on her leg grew cold and tight with dried blood. Her knee had already stopped hurting. Needles and twigs still cut at her feet, but Meredith could hardly feel the jabs – she was falling into a zone, flying like a bat through the dark forest, gaining ground –

Then, without warning, her left foot caught on a root. Meredith's ankle twisted viciously, and she went sprawling face-first into dirt and pine needles.

For a moment, all she wanted to do was scream. Meredith stuffed her hand into her mouth and bit down hard, tears springing to her eyes as she drew herself into a ball.

…_hurts-so-bad-hurts-so-bad-hurts-so-bad…_

Slowly, gradually, the initial explosion of agony began to ease off, and she sat up, spitting dry leaves and bark from her lips. Breathing shakily, Meredith grabbed onto a nearby trunk and started pulling herself up. She was able to stand on her right leg, using the tree for support. Meredith bit her lip and tried to put her left foot down. Fresh pain knifed through the middle of joint, white and hot. The forest swam around her.

Meredith pulled her leg up, tears spilling down her cheeks again, but not from the pain this time. She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. It was over. _She_ was over. She'd never outrun them, now…

Unless…

Unless she didn't _have _to. Meredith opened her eyes, peering through wet lashes at the spread of thick branches above. In the distance, she could hear the low, indistinct hum of approaching voices. Jay and the cop didn't realize she was hurt – for all they knew, she was still running like hell. So, they just would keep chasing her…along the ground.

They would have no reason to look _up_.

There were several foot-long, broken-off branches within easy reach – even one that was low enough to step on. Meredith grabbed one branch in each hand and, with a pull and a hop, she was on her way up the tree like a one-legged monkey.

Meredith's fourth grade gymnastics class came flooding back to her as she navigated up the trunk. She'd only taken those lessons for a year – the one year her dad had bothered to cough up alimony. After that, she had to quit. But Meredith had learned a lot in that one year. Now, she balanced, swung, and dangled fearlessly, unstoppable even on one leg.

When the trunk started to get thin and the tree was beginning to sway too much from her movements, Meredith finally came to a halt. Right foot perched on a narrow branch, both arms hugging the trunk, she waited in silence.

Before long, she could make out heavy, crunching footsteps, approaching through the trees. Jay and the cop moved closer and closer, until she could hear the branches scratching against their clothes, and a strange whining sound that could only be the German Shepherd. Then, almost directly beneath her tree, the footsteps stopped.

Meredith held her breath.

The dog was still crying, and the cop's sharp voice bit through the night. "Damn it, Moses, what's the matter with you? I said, 'Track! _Track!_'" There was a hollow smack of an open hand hitting a muzzle. The Shepherd yelped and began to whine louder.

"Your dog doesn't like you very much," Jay observed, sounding amused.

"He's not mine," the cop said. "He's Karen's."

"Then you won't mind if I do this – " A single gunshot cracked the air, and the whining stopped.

Meredith squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed a sob.

"Great," the cop complained. "Now what am I going to tell Karen?"

"Hunting accident," Jay replied, and although she couldn't see him, Meredith could just _tell_ he said it with a smile.

The cop sighed. "Whatever, let's just get this over with – I think it's starting to rain."

"No, it isn't – the sky is clear."

"I heard raindrops," the cop insisted.

Meredith could hear it now, too – a soft, steady patter hitting the earth right underneath her. She could also feel something wet and sticky, oozing between her toes…

Swallowing back terror, Meredith looked down. Her right leg was slippery and black in the moonlight, fresh blood pouring from the wound in her knee, sliding down her shin and rolling in thick rivers across the top of her foot:

Drip, drip, drip…

Letting go of the trunk with one hand, Meredith smashed her palm over the weeping cut, but it was too little, too late.

Jay's smiling voice drifted up through the branches:

"Oh, that isn't rain…" His boots crackled closer, splintering needles and twigs, and suddenly, the tree began to rock – back and forth, back and forth, creaking as it moved. Meredith's stomach rolled as she clung on tighter. Down below, Jay laughed. "…Is it, Me_red_ith?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

As the violent swaying tapered off, Meredith looked around frantically for her options, wondering if she could break off a stick and use it as a weapon, or maybe somehow climb onto a neighboring tree before Jay could make it up this one. She spotted a deadly-looking spear of a branch off to her right, and reached out for it. Just as her fingers brushed the bark, the first shot shattered the air –

The bullet screamed right past Meredith's ear, so close she could feel the heat of the lead. The limb directly above her exploded into a splintery mess, and the treetop twisted wildly, like it was trying to shake her off. Meredith's fingernails bit into the wood, clawing for traction.

Another shot rang out, and red-hot fire tore through the meat of her shoulder, ripping her away from the tree with the force of a mack truck. Meredith crashed down through the branches, screaming and flailing. She saw the ground an instant before she hit it, and tried to put up her hands in feeble self-protection.

Her left wrist snapped on impact. The rest of her hit so hard Meredith could actually feel her teeth shift inside her skull. Her screaming stopped abruptly as every last molecule of air left her lungs in a brutal _crunch_, and for a moment all she could do was lie there, unable to move, unable to breathe.

A few feet away, the cop let out a chuckle. "Well, I'll be damned – somebody better call the _Times_, 'cause it's raining bloody women…"

"Your sense of humor is lacking," Jay said flatly. "Go get the wagon out of the Jeep." There was a jingle of keys, thrown and caught, and the cop jogged obediently away.

Face pressed to the dirt, Meredith opened and closed her mouth, struggling like a beached fish. _No air…_

Jay walked over to stand above her. "Bad night?" he asked.

She made a clicking noise in the back of her throat. Jay reached down and tilted her chin up, and Meredith finally managed a loud, whooping gasp of air.

"No," she panted, a funny wheeze settling in her chest. "Bad boyfriend…He's a total…loser…"

Jay laughed. "Now, see? _That's_ funny."

Now that she could breathe again, the rest of her injuries lit up like neon signs, flashing at her in electric-yellow and motel-vacancy-red: wrist, shoulder, head, back, neck, ankle, knee, _wrist…_

Meredith groaned, curling in on herself. She tried to cradle the broken arm with the shot one as Jay knelt down beside her.

"Don't worry," he said, brushing dirt and sweaty hair off her face almost tenderly. "It won't be much longer."

She tried to pull her head away from his touch, but her neck flared in warning. Meredith's eyes settled on the gun, held loosely in his other hand. She went limp, letting him continue to stroke her.

"You know," Jay went on, combing his fingers through her long auburn hair, "I actually underestimated you. All this time, I thought you were just trash – someone else's leftovers. Good for some fun, but nothing more. But you actually had some potential. You made it farther than anyone else I've brought here, and for that, I think you deserve something special. A proper send-off…"

He tucked a lock behind her ear and cupped the side of her face. Meredith made her eyes slowly glaze and droop, then gave a soft sigh and let them flutter closed.

Jay tapped her forehead. "Hey. Come on, wake up. You don't want to miss the fun part…" He leaned close, his breath tickling her ear. "Meredith…Me_red_ith…Come out and pl—"

In a split second her eyes snapped open, and she lunged for the gun. Jay caught her by the arm and held tight, his fingers closing like a bear trap on her already broken wrist. Meredith moaned, bile rising in her throat. Jay didn't let go – he rotated the shattered bone back and forth, savoring her screams as she writhed on the ground.

"See what I mean?" Jay half-shouted over the racket. "Potential."

Finally, he let her arm drop back to the ground. She pulled it to her body and squeezed her eyes shut, panting.

"If I had known what you were capable of, we could've had _so_ much fun together…I might've even kept you for a while."

_Kept_ her?

Meredith peeled open her eyes and glared at him. "What, like that chick…in your basement?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes, Suzanna has been my guest for several months now. She was very interesting in the beginning, but lately she's been getting tedious. It might be time to end our relationship…What do you think?" He cocked his head curiously, waiting for Meredith's reply as if they were sitting in a booth at Tim Hortons, chatting about bad dates.

Meredith wanted to tell him to go to hell, but it was getting harder and harder to catch her breath. In the distance, she could hear a rattling noise as the cop returned, pulling something through the trees.

"I'd better go help him with that," Jay said, getting to his feet. "You can just hang out here – it won't take long." He gave her head a pat and walked off.

The instant Jay's back was turned, Meredith started struggling to get up. Almost everything on her body hurt, but most of it still worked – she managed to get both knees and one arm underneath her, and began to crawl along the ground like a half-squished spider, crippled and broken, but still dead-set on escape.

Sweat poured down her face and dripped off the end of her nose as she inched over the ground. The rattling of whatever the cop was pulling had stopped, and now Meredith could hear strange sloshing and splashing noises as Jay and his partner moved through the woods around her.

Within seconds, the fumes hit –

_Gasoline_.

That stuff was _so_ not her friend tonight. Meredith's throat clogged, her already-struggling lungs choking on the chemical stink. She swallowed back a cough, and the tightness in her lungs got worse. Somehow, her whole chest felt like it was closing in on itself, crushing smaller and smaller with every breath, but if she could just keep going—

A single gunshot cracked the air. There was short fire-burst of pain, right in the middle of Meredith's spine, and then nothing at all – the entire bottom half of her body went dead. Her twisted ankle and her bloody knee and all the other little scrapes and bruises and pains just vanished, like she stopped existing right below the waist. Meredith slumped to the ground.

"Got her!" the cop called triumphantly.

"You're an idiot," Jay told him. "Finish up here, then go get Jane. And _don't_ fire that thing again while you're holding an open gas can…"

"Roger that."

Leaving the cop pouring out the last of the gas, Jay walked back over to Meredith, who was lying once again with her face in the dirt, now trying to pull herself along with one hand. He unceremoniously rolled her over.

Meredith instantly gasped in pain, the tightness in her ribcage suddenly unbearable in the new position. Her chest didn't just feel crushed – it felt like there was knife sticking in there, stabbing on every inhale. Meredith made little panicked noises as she fought for air.

"You have a collapsed lung," Jay said calmly. "I wouldn't sweat it – it's the least of your problems." From the back of his belt, he pulled out a long knife. The blade flashed silver, catching the moonlight, as he held it up in front of Meredith.

She lashed out with her right arm, and Jay pinned it down easily. Terror flooded her system. A tiny sob welled up from the back of Meredith's throat:

"Jay, don't…please…"

She searched his face desperately – if he had one drop of mercy, if there was anything human inside him at all…

The tiger smiled down at her, ready for his meal. "I'm sorry, my dear, but we do have to hurry this up…" Jay raised the knife high above his head…

"Jay, don't! Don't!"

…And plunged it into her abdomen. Meredith's scream died on her lips. The expected anguish did not come – Jay had hit her in the dead zone, the part already numb and paralyzed, and although her upper body jerked and twitched as he cut into her, she could not feel the knife at all.

When Jay sat back a moment later, wet up to his wrist, Meredith could only watch with dull eyes as he wiped the blade off in the dirt. A strange feeling was creeping through her body, like someone had flipped a switch, and all the energy was draining out. She struggled to keep her eyes open.

Jay got to his feet and stood over her, the moon a silver-white, glowing halo behind his head. "So long, Me_red_ith," he said, blowing her a kiss with his bloody hand. Then he turned and walked off into the woods, stopping every once in a while to light a match and fling it at the gasoline-soaked ground.

Blinking sluggishly, Meredith watched the forest all around her start to burn bright. She watched fire dart up the tree that had almost saved her, devouring the branches with hungry yellow teeth. She watched flames inch over to the dead dog, his body dark at first against the brilliant backdrop, and then dazzling orange as the fire crawled right over him, covering him like a blanket.

Then, Meredith watched the fire come for her. It snuck over the dry earth in snakes and tendrils, casting its dancing red glow on everything. Not far from her fingertips, she saw a flash of beautiful gold.

The wedding ring.

It must have fallen off when she was crawling, or else when she crashed down through the tree. Meredith looked at it now, the shining band mirroring the flames. She remembered she was supposed to give it to an agent named Teresa, somewhere in California. But Meredith wasn't going to see Teresa. Meredith wasn't going to see anyone – not Simon or Dana or even the ugly bulldog – ever again.

Nonetheless, she reached out for the ring. Meredith pulled it closer, clumsily raking it across pine needles and dirt, until she could hold it in her hand.

The flames were very near, now – so close she could feel their angry heat, breathing down her neck. So close they made the air shimmer like water. So close they made the blood on the ground start to bubble.

Right before the flames hit, Meredith closed her eyes, and squeezed the ring tight, and wondered if it was really true that dead people didn't suffer anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

As Lisbon walked across the charred ground, her shoes crushing dead bits of tree into black dust, she knew she should be grateful. They'd caught a major break with that private plane.

If not for a bunch of lawyers, flying back from a business trip, she and her team might never have been called in. Even someone with Rigsby's eye for accelerant trails probably wouldn't have noticed such a large-scale pattern, if someone hadn't seen it from above when it had first been lit.

But they'd caught a break. And thanks to seven guys in suits – and some very fancy iPhones – YouTube was now flooded with images of a fifty-foot-wide Red John smiley face, branded in fire across a dark stretch of Montana woods.

It was a unique situation, in many ways. Lisbon only needed one hand to count the number of times Red John had killed out-of-state. She only needed one _finger_ to count the number of times he had left his signature in something other than blood. And then there was the fire itself –

Red John almost never burned anyone.

Lisbon blinked to clear her eyes. Up ahead, she could see the murdered girl's body, lying in a bed of ash, her flesh and life burned away right down to fragile bone. They had a pretty good idea who the girl was, based on the Missing Persons report. But until dental records could confirm, the body of who they believed was Meredith Hanson would officially remain a mystery.

About twenty feet away lay another body – the incinerated corpse of a dog, which was a mystery unto itself.

Lisbon crossed the scorched ground slowly, letting her weary eyes wander the rest of the scene. Six months ago, it would have been a different story. Six months ago, she would have fought to get to this crime scene, even while the wildfires were still burning. Six months ago, Lisbon would've been poring over this forest with an actual magnifying glass, scouring for the tiniest clue, feeling that urgent itch not to miss one single, tiny detail.

Now, all she felt was sad.

Why did this girl have to die in one of the most horrible ways possible? Why had Red John felt the need for such drastic overkill, destroying nearly three square miles of wilderness just to dispose of one body?

These were the kinds of questions Lisbon had long since gotten tired of asking.

Why did Red John do anything? Why had he left her alive, and taken Jane instead?

Lisbon had spent too many years of her life trying to figure out the motives and behaviors of an insane man who got too much publicity, too much credit, and all too often, got away with murder.

When Minelli had first handed her the Red John case file, Lisbon had been young, hopeful, naïve. Eager to prove that a girl could win the race, and solve the case that had all the boys stumped. She'd chased after that shiny brass ring with gusto. But the faster she ran, the more it seemed like there was a string tied to that ring – every time she got close, the prize would get yanked away from her. And along the way, people around her started to fall: Bosco, Minelli, Kristina…

Jane.

Now, twenty-two miles into the marathon, Lisbon was no longer running to win. She just wanted to cross the damn finish line. Cuff Red John or kill him – it didn't really matter which – and then walk away and never think of him again. Never give one more second of her time to the man who had already taken everything.

Six months ago, she had felt very differently. Back then, when it was still a rescue mission, a tight wire of tension strung her bones together. Her hands shook constantly from too much coffee and her eyes burned from trying to read too many leads.

In those times, Lisbon remembered rarely sitting down at work. Rarely going home. Sleeping fitfully on Jane's couch when she could no longer keep her eyes open. And always, _always_ snatching up her phone on the first ring.

She'd driven her team mercilessly, their case-closed rate soaring as they plowed through their regular workload in half the time, just so they could get back to _this _case.

Find Jane. Save Jane.

Any and all leads were golden. Down-time was to be avoided at all costs – it gave Lisbon too many opportunities to think about what Red John might be doing to Jane…or making Jane do.

Jane was clever and committed – he'd once faked a mental breakdown for six whole months – but even Jane had his limits. He could only go so far, pretend so long, before he wound up carrying a watermelon in a cardboard box, instead of a human head.

What would happen when Red John found the line that Jane just wouldn't cross?

Nine months after Jane went missing, Lisbon got her answer. The little black box with the red bow was sitting on her desk one morning, waiting for her. No card. No explanation of how it got there.

Inside the box, nestled carefully in white cotton, lay a single human finger.

It was Cho who found the note underneath, while Lisbon was hunched over a toilet in the Ladies' Room. Just a strip of paper with one neatly-written word: "Naughty."

Forensics determined that the digit had been sliced off a living person, not a corpse – which meant that Jane was probably still alive, but what next? Would she come in one day and find an ear, a tongue? Or would Lisbon come home one night and find something else entirely? She began to imagine stepping into her silent, darkened apartment and feeling the tip of a knife trace her throat, as Jane's voice whispered in her ear:

"Surprise."

Red John was pushing Jane, torturing him. There were only so many ways it could go: Jane would either give in, or die for refusing to do so, and Lisbon honestly didn't know which was worse…until she got the call.

Eighteen months after Jane disappeared, a male body was found in Yellowstone Park. Badly burned and missing a pinky finger, local police feared that they had found the CBI's wayward consultant at long last. Lisbon, however, briefly clung onto hope – there was no wedding ring on the body, and Jane never took that ring off, not once. It was like a _part_ of him.

She remembered urgently pacing outside the coroner's office, convincing herself in a million ways how the body could not be Jane, while the rest of her team sat solemnly in plastic chairs, waiting and dreading.

When the coroner finally emerged from the autopsy with his findings, Lisbon actually wanted him to just hurry up and blurt it out, so she could get back to looking for Jane. But the coroner looked at her strangely, almost pityingly…and then he said the words:

"I'm so sorry, but the dental records were a match."

And suddenly, Lisbon very badly needed the plastic chair that Cho had pulled up behind her.

So, it was over. All this time wondering if Jane was better off dead than a monster, and now she had her answer: a resounding, unequivocal "no." No matter what Jane did – whether he slaughtered some innocent young blonde on Red John's command, or whether Jane held a knife to Lisbon's own throat, all could be forgiven. Whatever Jane lost as a result of Red John's torture, could be found again. They could get him help, find a way to heal him.

The only people beyond all possibility of help or hope, were those who were already dead…

As Lisbon blinked away the past, a soft breeze washed through the burned-out forest, filling the air with ash. She watched the grey flakes float down, settling over the girl's body like gentle snow.

"I know it doesn't do you much good now," Lisbon told her softly, "but my name is Teresa Lisbon, and I'm gonna find out what happened to you."

Somehow, after Lisbon said the words, the girl seemed more peaceful. Lisbon turned to leave, but something about the body's position caught her – one arm lay on the ground, the hand open and relaxed. The other arm was across the girl's chest, fist clenched tight. It was a gesture Lisbon knew well – in times of fear or trouble, she often reached up to feel the solace of the silver cross around her neck.

Lisbon wondered if this girl had a cross, too. If she was clutching it tight, as a last comfort before death. Slipping on a pair of gloves, Lisbon knelt down and very carefully began to pry open the girl's fingers.

Something gleaming and golden spilled from her grip, landing on the ash-littered ground, but it wasn't a cross – it was a wedding ring. A _man's _wedding ring. Lisbon's hand shook as she reached out for it.

Holding it in the sunlight, she could read the scrawl of fine engraving on the inside of the band: "To Patrick, My Love Forever, Angela." And right beside those words, three new ones, painstakingly etched into the metal:

"_I am alive."_


End file.
